


In the End

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So why is it that Napoleon always ends up the one to be dunked in the water?  Is it merely fate or could his partner have some say in it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the End

In the end, there was nothing left to do, but pick up his jacket and walk away.  It seemed both sad and comforting simultaneously.  He knew it had been a mistake to wear white today, but Napoleon had insisted.  He looked okay in white, but Napoleon… definitely not his color… especially today.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”  His partner’s response was tight.

 

“I just wanted to be sure.  You took several hits and it is my responsibility to look out for your welfare.”

 

“You should have thought of that about an hour again.”

 

“Come, let’s get you cleaned up.  You’ll feel better after a hot bath.”

 

“I doubt it.”  Napoleon held his mud splattered limbs away from his body, not that it matter.  He was literally a walking mud puddle.

 

“This is the last time we volunteer for such an insane display of bravado.”  Illya kept his distance. 

 

“It was for a good cause and at least now we have a free weekend.”

 

“No man is free who must work for a living and volunteering as a victim for the UNCLE dunk tank counts very much as work in my book.”

 

“When I volunteered, I thought they used water… not mud… and look at you, not even a speck of mud on you.  And why did I get all the guys?”

 

“I have no idea.”

 

“I’m thinking the thing was rigged.”

 

“Rigged?  You wound me.”

 

“Wounding sound pretty good at the moment, but I do think we need to equalize things a bit.”  Napoleon ran a hand over his mud caked shirt and looked down at it, then at his partner. 

 

“Napoleon… don’t…. Napoleon…”

 

And the agents who had picked that it would take Napoleon one hour, fourteen minutes and twelve second to figure out his partner practical joke were rubbing their hands together in glee.  The ones who bet Illya would leave dirty merely adopted a superior air, even as the air was filled with shouts and pleas for mercy.  
  
Mr. Waverly just smiled and nodded contently to himself. He'd won enough to take his wife to dinner tonight and reassured himself that his two top agents were safely defused, if only for a few days...

 

 

 

 


End file.
